Once at Manon’s apartment, she knocked and called out. “Bonjour, cousin.”
The door opened and Manon greeted her with a small, but genuine smile. She waved Elaine in swiftly. As soon as the door was shut once more, a little face peered around the doorway in the main living area.
“Is that Noah?” Elaine asked.
His face erupted in a grin, and he scurried toward her, his arms spread wide. She set the basket down carefully and caught him midrun, clutching him to her to keep them both from barreling over.
His reaction was likely due to the food she managed to bring with each of her visits, but she still relished his excitement regardless.
Perhaps if her womb had been more welcoming, she might have had a child like Noah, one with her dark eyes and Joseph’s razor-sharp mind. They could have been a family, strolling alongside the Rh?ne together with pink-speckled praline brioche in their hands and pure happiness in their hearts.
She had lost a part of Joseph in having never had children with him. The poignancy of that realization hit her in the chest, visceral and sharp.
“Don’t be sad, Elaine.” Noah gazed up at her with his big, hazel eyes.
She blinked and rapidly cleared her mind of such ill-serving thoughts. “Of course I’m not sad. Today is the Fête des Lumières.”
Sarah leaned against the doorway, watching her son with her arms folded comfortably across her light pink sweater. A look of pride lifted the corners of her lips.
Elaine pulled out the lentils from her basket. “I brought food.”
“You did not have to do that,” Manon chided. But even as she did so, she accepted the modest-sized sack.
“There are too many of you here now for your rations to do.” Elaine eagerly withdrew two eggs, their shells still intact from her care upon the trek over.
Sarah joined them and accepted the eggs with gentle hands. “Where did you find these?”
“Someone from the black market stopped to see us first.” Elaine reached into her basket a final time. “Which is how I was able to buy this.” She held up the jar in presentation. Light glinted through the viscous red jam, so the contents appeared to glow.
Noah’s face beamed with delight.
“Hold it with two hands.” Elaine settled the jar in his palms. “And take it to the kitchen.”
Noah did as she bade and walked with exaggerated precision, like an acrobat on a tightrope, his body tense with the concentration of youth’s precarious coordination.
“That was kind of you to bring those items.” Sarah hovered over Noah, deposited the eggs in the kitchen, then returned to speak with Elaine. “Manon never says as much, but I know we are straining her supplies. Especially with the way Noah eats.”
“He’s a growing boy.” Elaine gathered her empty basket. “Let him eat whatever he can.”
“Have you heard anything?” Sarah asked, her composure breaking slightly, revealing the strain beneath.
“London has confirmed receipt of my request.” Elaine had to force herself to keep the excitement from her voice. “But it does not guarantee—”
“I know,” Sarah said quickly. “But London.” She clasped her hands over her heart, as though locking the hope inside lest it flit away. “This is greater than I ever anticipated.”
“I will do my best,” Elaine promised.
Sarah’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Thank you.”
That night, when the sun descended in the hills beyond where the old Roman ruins lay from the ancient city of Lugdunum, a miracle happened. Soft, golden candlelight filled the windows in Lyon. There were only a few brave souls determined to engage in the celebration, but the darkened streets lit with the ethereal brilliance of their bravery.